


what's a ghost to king

by whytho



Category: Paranatural (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, HEKC YE, did not really end up being bullymagnet, prince AU, thieves au, was meant to be bullymagnet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 03:15:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10402584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whytho/pseuds/whytho
Summary: “Father,” Max asks, sounding exasperated, “Why have the knights started to sit at the dinner table while they guard us?”(or: Johnny is a knight, Max is a prince. Neither of them are very good at doing their job.)





	

Johnny Jhonny likes being a knight. 

He’s good at it, that’s for sure- it’d be hard not to be when you’ve been training for only, oh, your whole life. He likes the security it gives him- the money it gives him makes sure he can provide for his mothers, and his little sister. And- maybe most important of all- it gives him Max Puckett. 

Crown Prince Max Puckett, coincidentally, might hate Johnny, but that part doesn’t really matter, because he can’t do anything about it. 

“Father,” Max asks, sounding exasperated, “Why have the knights started to sit at the dinner table while they guard us?” 

Next to Johnny, Princess Zoey snickers. He’s not sure why- he doesn’t understand the princess’ sense of humor- but it’s all he can do to school his face into something resembling stone. Whenever someone giggles or cackles or titters, he has the overwhelming urge to join them. The last time he stayed up late with Stephen, the two of them started laughing wildly and uncontrollably somewhere around midnight and didn’t stop until RJ punched them repeatedly. 

“Now, Maxwell,” King Puckett starts authoritatively, tapping his spoon lightly against the side of his bowl for emphasis, “We need protection! With that- that band of rapscallions about, we can’t take any chances with our safety, and that means having protection right next to us as we eat.” 

Across the table, Max shoots Johnny a look. It’s not a glare- Johnny knows Max would never let his walls down enough to let so strong an emotion cross his face- but it’s halfway there. Johnny tries not to shiver. Instead, he focuses on his soup, and then Zoey is skillfully leading the conversation towards safer topics. Johnny nudges her knee with his under the table as thanks, and she gives him a tiny half-smirk in return, glancing at him from the corner of her eyes with an expression that looks positively demonic. 

Johnny is equal parts scared and impressed by Zoey. She’s either going to kill and man or rule the kingdom someday, he’s sure of it. In fact, she might do both- Max is in line for the throne, but Zoey does not seem above fratricide. 

The rest of dinner passes easily, with Johnny eating his soup in silence, King Puckett and Zoey chattering, and Max interjecting occasionally. Across the room, RJ’s staring at Johnny and behind him, at the door to the crown family’s private wing, Ollie is doing the same. He can feel their gazes boring through his tunic. He focuses on the blood red color of his dinner instead of looking at either of them- it’s tomato, which isn’t his favorite, but it’s also the food of royalty and tastes better than most of the food Johnny’s family can afford. 

When dinner is over, Max is the first one out of his seat, out like a shot. Before Johnny can blink, he’s by the doorway; Johnny rises from his seat, startled, and is about to call out for him to slow down when Max turns, eyebrows already raised. “Aren’t you coming?” he asks, snide, and Johnny tries and fails to bite down his helpless grin. 

While Max hovers by the door and communicates with Zoey using only his eyes, Johnny strides over to join him, and as Max huffs and tosses his head the two of them set down the hall at a trot. Ollie’s sigh echos down the hall behind them, and Johnny swallows. 

His friends all have problems when Johnny talks to Max, or stands near Max, or mentions Max in conversation. He’s not sure why; none of them will discuss it with him, for reasons he doesn’t understand, but they also won’t stop sighing dramatically or staring at him whenever he does anything that might possibly be involved with Maxwell Puckett, Crown Prince. 

It might be because they don’t like him, which Johnny doubts, or maybe they just know their place in this world of royalty and cavalry and rebel thieves. If there’s anything Johnny isn’t good at, it’s knowing his place. That’s why he keeps his friends around. 

They reach Max’s chambers in record time. The torchlight plays across Max’s cheekbones as they stare at each other, silent, turning him into something far less composed than Johnny is used to. His eyes look soft and sad, as sad as they had been when Johnny had started training at Corner Castle, and he wracks his brain to think of a reason why. Was Johnny getting fired? Was he going to need to spend less time exercising and more time watching over Max? Was Max moving back to Baxborough City for his schooling? 

That stops Johnny dead in his figurative tracks, startles him so hard Max must see the shock in his eyes and asks, “Johnny? Are you… okay?” 

“Uh,” Johnny starts. He stops, then blurts, “Uh. Yeah. You just- I might- the lighting is funny you’re seeing things that’s it.” 

Max regards him carefully at that, lowering his chin to stare at him from under his eyelashes, and Johnny’s heart skips a beat. If Max is going to fire him, he thinks, he will actually have a heart attack. 

Instead, Max says, “Johnny, I- can you get me some soup?” The non sequitur is so sudden Johnny forgets about heart attacks as Max continues, “I- dinner tonight was very tasty, and I think I- I want some more.” 

“Uh, sure,” Johnny replies, blinking. “I’ll- I’ll be right back?” 

Max is already turning away, opening his bedroom door, and Johnny can’t see his face or his eyes or the expression he’s baring anymore. “Thank you,” he says, unexpectedly quiet, and repeats, “Johnny? Thank you.” 

“No prob, highness,” Johnny says lightly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It’s just some soup, after all.” 

Max’s huff of laughter is almost too quiet for Johnny to hear, but he catches it anyway, and then Max’s door closes and he’s sprinting to the kitchens. Flying past Zoey exiting the dining room- “Hey!” she shouts, and Johnny grins at her as he passes- and Sir Oop in his study- “No running in these sacred halls, whichever hooligan you are!” he shouts without looking up- he makes it to the kitchens only a little out of breath. He stops to catch it before entering, hands on his hips, then opens the grand doors and slips onto one of the seats next to a counter. 

“Hey,” he tells Suzy the Sous Chef. She nods back, mouth set in a determined line as she attacks a cut of meat, and jerks her head to Collin the Underpaid Dishwasher in a signal of _talk to him, not me, you crazy lunatic._

“Heyo, Collin-o,” Johnny calls across the room. Collin glances up from the enormous pot he’s scrubbing, mouth already set in a frown, and sighs when he sees that it's Johnny.

“Oh, what do you want,” he grouches goodnaturedly, and Johnny lets out an easy little laugh. 

“Soup for his Royal Highness, if it pleases you,” he tells him. Collin huffs but wipes off his hands, directing Johnny towards a cabinet for a bowl and a lid. Both of them know the drill- they’ve done it probably hundreds of times, whenever Johnny is on late night duty and one of the royals wants a midnight snack. Johnny gets the dishes, Collin gets the food. Suzy watches them while stabbing something. They have it all worked out. 

Still, tonight it seems to slow. Collin is too careful as he doles out the soup. The second he’s done fitting the lid on top, Johnny snatches it out of his hands and starts running out, tossing a “Thank you!” over his shoulder as he pulls open the door. As he runs out, he hears only Collin’s exasperated sigh and Suzy saying, quite loudly, “Isn’t he-” The rest is cut off by the door slamming. 

The return to Max’s room is slower. He jogs instead of runs, soup held carefully between his hands, and Sir Oop doesn’t even yell at him as he makes his way past. When he arrives at Max’s room, he slows and shifts the soup to one hand and knocks carefully, holding his breath. 

There’s no answer. Johnny knocks again, louder this time, and when there’s still no reply, he shifts the soup to his other hand and opens the door. 

Max’s room is dark, the bedside candle not lit, and his window is open, letting a cold wind into the room. “...Max?” Johnny calls. No answer- he grabs a lantern from the wall and walks through the doorway. Still nothing. Johnny sets down the soup on his desk to scan the room. Max, he finds, isn’t there, but- his blood runs cold- a piece of paper on his desk is covered in his spidery handwriting, and Johnny can see his own name on it. 

He puts down the lantern. He picks up the note, hands shaking, and starts to read. 

_To Johnny/ Dad/ Zoey/ Whoever else would be reading this-_

_I’m sorry. Really, I am. But I also didn’t want to rule the kingdom, which, I might add, you know, Dad, so I ran away. Don’t try to look for me._

_Sorry._

Underneath that, there are several crossed out sentences, but Johnny doesn’t even try to decipher them. He rushes to the window, throws himself against the ledge to peer down at the several feet below. It’s two stories, Johnny thinks- if he jumped that far he might break his legs, but. Max has been falling from the tallest tower in Corner Castle for fun for as long as Johnny’s known him, and not once has he gotten hurt. Johnny’s chewed him out afterwards, true, but- but. But Max could make that jump. 

Johnny doesn’t even think about, doesn’t even consider telling Ollie or Sir Oop or King Puckett. He grabs the lantern from the desk, drops it out the window, and hopes it made it down. Then he closes his eyes, backs up until his heels hits the wall, takes one deep breath in, and then he’s running and jumping and falling, and somehow he twists his body midair so it wouldn’t hurt as much, and then he’s on the ground, winded. He lies there for a few seconds to get his breath back, then forces himself back up. 

Max’s path through the bushes is obvious. For once, Johnny’s pleased with how bad Max is at being sneaky, and then he remembers that _he has run away_ and he’s back to abject panic. Without stopping to call for Ollie or Stephen or the rest of the Royal Guard, he grabs the broken but still lit lantern and takes off into the woods, thoughts a mess of _he’s gone no time gotta find the prince where is he?_

The run is long. Max’s path is clear with the light, and Johnny figures he must not have a horse- too suspicious, probably- but Max is fast. He’s fast, and he doesn’t have to figure out where the hell the crown prince went, so Johnny has some amount of doubt in his ability to find Prince Max before he anything bad happens. 

But- but. But that is unthinkable, so Johnny pushes himself harder, and by the time he’s a mile or so from the castle and feeling a little winded, he can see the light of a campfire about fifty feet ahead of him. Pushing down the hope rising in his chest, he slows, until he stands on the edge of a well-lit clearing. 

Inside, Johnny can see a few figures talking around their campfire, and behind them, two makeshift tents. There are only a couple of them- three, he thinks, unless there are more hiding somewhere- but he doesn’t approach. Even if he can probably take them all down in an emergency, there’s still an off chance the strange people camping in the woods are armed and ready to fight a stranger approaching them in the middle of the night. 

Instead, he lurks in the bushes and strains his ears to listen in. 

“And then Spender was all…” he hears a light voice say, but he can’t make out the rest. 

Someone laughs, low and quiet, and another voice takes over. 

“And then!” they say excitedly- loudly. “Then the guy just punched him in the face- no hesitation, just _wham!_ ”

“And what, you all didn’t help him?” the person who laughed asked, amusement still thick in their voice, and Johnny can hardly stop himself from rustling the bushes he’s in front of when he realizes _that’s Max._ Max, not even five miles from the castle and unharmed from the looks of it. Johnny lets himself go and wriggles a little bit in delight. Job done, he thinks. Prince Maxwell would be safe again by dawn. 

The people around the campfire continue with their conversation, but Johnny is too busy planning an escape to listen. Should he drag Max away as he sleeps? 

No, too barbaric. 

Could he carry Max away? Maybe.

The hairs on Johnny’s neck prickle, and he starts to turn around, right before something heavy slams down on his head and everything turns into throbbing darkness. 

 

 

Johnny’s head hurts. 

It hurts a lot. 

Colors and faces blur in his vision- dark hair slipping out of the edges of his eyes, firelight glinting against fire-bright hair, Max’s eyes searching somewhere above Johnny. 

Murmured voices, none of them strong enough to make out. A mouthful of sweet, cloying liquid dripped onto his tongue. A press of someone’s fingers against his forehead as other hands lay him on the ground, soft and sudden. 

Someone’s raised voice, faded when it reaches Johnny, and Max’s a little louder. 

A blanket slipped over his shoulders. 

 

When Johnny wakes up, his head still hurts, along with his wrists and his eyes and his calves. 

The sunlight is shockingly bright against his eyelids and he groans, squeezing them even tighter in self defense. It’s only when he realizes his groaning isn’t really working that he opens them. 

He has a gag on. 

He has a gag on, his wrists are bound, he is tied to a tree, and there are several inquisitive faces around him. 

Narrowing his eyebrows at the closest one- a boy maybe his age, with blond hair and thick spectacles- he growls a little in the back of his throat, and the boy smiles at him. 

“It won’t work, Johnny,” says Max, leaning against a tree far away from the action. He’s looking down at his nails, the picture of nonchalance, and Johnny is extremely irritated by it. He growls louder in Max’s direction. 

“It really won’t,” a girl agrees, staring at Johnny. She’s dark haired and inquisitive looking, and she’s also wearing a sharp, lethal-looking knife strapped to her belt. 

Johnny does not growl at her. 

Instead, he bares his teeth at the group as a whole, to mixed reactions. While the girl is narrows her eyes, the blond boy looks even more delighted, and the last member of their troupe, a ginger lingering by the fire, is the only scared one. Even he’s mostly just exuding a disbelieving air of _what is this creature_. 

“Anyways,” Max says loudly, pushing himself off the tree. “We have tied you up.” 

“Well, really Isaac and I tied you up,” says the blond boy. He considers for a second, mouth tightening. “Though one might say it was a group effort.” 

“You were tied up,” interrupts the girl, rolling her eyes. “Because you aren’t supposed to be here. Max-” 

“Prince Max!” Johnny forgets about being tied up and moves into indignant. “Ya maybe shouldn’t be addressing the heir to the kingdom so casually, you know. The royal guards get mad about that!” 

The girl scoffs.

Max takes a step closer to Johnny, face half lit by the fire. As he stares Johnny down, his one visible eye is dark and weary, and he says, “That’s the thing. I’ve given up my claim to the throne, and am now no longer a prince or an heir or anything else.”

“Now he’s one of us,” says the ginger by the fire- Isaac, Johnny thinks. 

The girl nods once, as sharp as the tip of her knife. 

Jaw tight, Johnny takes them in. “And who are you?” 

Another man steps out from the shadows, into the warm yellow light of the campfire. “We are the ghosts of the woods,” he says, eyes unreadable- covered by a pair of stained-dark spectacles. 

“Otherwise known,” says the girl, “as that new gang of thieves.”

**Author's Note:**

> k so.... in my defense this has been written for a very long time. mostly. partially. it was based off a prompt that @bullymagnettrash came up with that i can't find- if someone knows what it is pls tell me so that i can like it
> 
> was gonna be longer but????? we'll see. this may just be some one shots. this may not be. who knows???????????? certainly not me, the author, who should know this stuff
> 
> anyway, ty for reading!! also ty to the pnat community, which has grown and is amazing and loverly and great- i love it all
> 
> talk to me on [tumblr](whythowastakenwhatisthis.tumblr.com)


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